


Stage Two

by Agodx



Category: On My Block (TV)
Genre: F/M, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, MxM - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-02-29 18:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18783406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agodx/pseuds/Agodx
Summary: Ruby is feeling a lot of things at this very moment. Anger is the most prominent. Anger towards every shitty detail in his life. Worst part of it, he can't do anything about it. His intellect did nothing to help his fried nerves, and there's only few to blame for that.





	1. Explosión

"Seriously," Amber said from behind me as she followed me through the kitchen exit, a pop tart in hand, and very much still in her pijamas. After the crap that went down with my mom, all wanted to do is eat a damn bowl of cereal, seems like satan's gotta shit on the cereal too these days. See ma, I’m always right. "Have you talked to some one?"

"About?"

Of course, I knew exactly what she was talking about, but I really didn't want to give a shit. After blowing off on my mom about church, this is the last thing I wanna do right now.

"Everything, that's a lot to hold on to."

I get it, she was trying to be helpful. I could care less. Listening to her only made me angry. Being here made me fucking angry. My blood felt like it sizzled under my skin as I sat down. Trying to eat my damn cereal in peace, I strained my self.

She continued to follow me, where she proceded to sit down next me, I really just want to tell her to piss off, "and i know sometimes it's hard to open up to your family," she never broke eye contact, " but you can open up to me. I took a semester of psych." She was smiling. She seemed almost genuine, and it pissed me the fuck off.

Dumbstruck by the nerve of this woman, I didn't reply. I stood up and walked away.

"I'm gonna take a nap."

Fuck the cereal.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Desires come in all shapes and sizes. I just really want her to leave me the fuck alone.

The twins lower bunk was shit. The mattress was lumpy. The boards were creaky. I can feel the mettle springs from the mattress digging into my back as I willed myself to get to sleep. With my eyes closed I tried so damn hard to calm my nerves. Everything was pissing me off. I, mean how can i not be angry. I have reasons to be fucking angry. Everything was going to shit. In this shitty as town, with its shitty as no good for anything, trouble causing gangs. Gangs. They're the cause to all my damn pain. The reason I can't stop thinking about her. The reason I'm so got damn vexed. I wish I could up and leave this hell hole of a town. Obviously, I can't do that. The thought just made my blood boil like water on high heat.

I don't like to think about her. At least not what she had to go through. None of it was right. Nothing about our situation was right.

"You know," Amber was chewing on something obnoxiously loud from the doorway, "sleeping is a sign of depression."

Not this again, please none of this again. Can I not have a a few moments alone. Everything is buzzing in my head. I needed to clear my thoughts. I can’t do that when I feel like she’s breathing down my damn neck. I have my bubble and she’s so close to fucking popping it.

"You need to fight the depression, and express your feelings."

There’s no fucking way. The logic in that is faulty as fuck. Not that I was listening, but she's getting me to the point where I'd do anything if it'll get her to leave me the fuck alone so I can get some piece of mind.

Feelings.

I'm having a lot of that right at this moment.

"How about we draw?"

"What?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** This is a work of fan-fiction using characters from the On My Block series on Netflix. All characters mentioned are in no way under my ownership. I do not claim ownership of them or the On My Block series. The story I tell here is purely my invention due to my imagination. In no way is this part of the official story line and serves the soul purpose of entertainment for those who wish to read it. I do not receive any sort of profit by publishing this piece, nor do I wish to. I am grateful to the creators of the On My Block series, for it was because of them I am able to manifest such a story.


	3. Condoms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know I might be emotionally unstable, but they still really should’ve fucking used one.

It took her very little convincing to do to get me out of bed. The only thing I'm looking forward towards is when this shit ends. There's was nearly nothing to do, and my restraints are running a little tight.

The sooner you're done with this crap the sooner she'll leave you the fuck alone

"So whatcha got?"

She was enthusiastic. Like she was glad I accepted to do this shit with her. I doubt she even cares, she's just helping out the this sorry ass excuse for a teenager. There is nothing else to do. I'm just gonna assume she was bored too.

Finishing the last touches, I turn the nasty yellow piece of construction paper towards her. As soon as she saw my drawing she gasped, "that's amazing!"

"How is that possibly amazing??"

I was taken the fuck back. How could this shit be remotely amazing. It's far from amazing. It's anything but amazing. It's a fucking middle finger for fucks sake!

"Because your angry, which means you're past denial."

She took a semesters of psych, so now she's a shrink. This is bullshit.

"Denial: stage one of grief. Anger: stage two."

What she said made sense, in a way. Here's is this pregnant 20 year old trying to pick and probe my grieving stages? What the hell even is that. Though, it made little sense, I couldn't help but get fucking angry. She has not one damn idea to the shit that’s going through my head. I really didn't like what she had to say next.

"Takes a big boy to work through his trauma," I know what's coming, and if it didn't infuriate me, "but you cant do it alone."

"Yes, I can."

I didn't like her saying it out loud. She was wrong.

"I do a lot of things alone. Some of my favorite things I do alone."

I was getting worked up again.

"—you know. You're the first person I know who's been shot."

I wasn't expecting that.

"And I hope you're the last. Ruby..."

She was sincere enough for me to believe her, a little. I was starting to consider what she was saying. That is, until she continued talking.

"...change starts with us. #stoptheviolence, #guncontrol, and my personal fave, #myfuturebrotherinlawalmostdiedsostopshootingourbabies."

She was pissing the hell off of me again, "am I the baby in the scenario? 'Cause I thought I was a big boy."  She talked to me like she knew what she was doing, but in reality she sounded like a 8 year old pretending to be a grown up. I grieve how ever the hell I want. To think she was actually getting at something with this. I'm sick of this shit.

"Honey, we're all the babies. Or rather," she pulled something out from under the dinning table, "were all...los bebés."

It was a Spanish dictionary. The one I had bought for Olivia.

"Where'd you get that?"

"Somebody just left it on the side walk."

I can't take this crap any longer. I have to get away from this shit hole. With the scoff I get up from the table and make my way to the front door.

"But your mom said not to leave." Amber tried to stop me from heading out.

"My mom also told Mario to use a condom."

I wasn't having any of it. Annoyed as hell, I walk out of the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** This is a work of fan-fiction using characters from the On My Block series on Netflix. All characters mentioned are in no way under my ownership. I do not claim ownership of them or the On My Block series. The story I tell here is purely my invention due to my imagination. In no way is this part of the official story line and serves the soul purpose of entertainment for those who wish to read it. I do not receive any sort of profit by publishing this piece, nor do I wish to. I am grateful to the creators of the On My Block series, for it was because of them I am able to manifest such a story.


	4. Life's painful.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life can be a pain and we cant do shit but walk it all off, honey.

I didn’t know what to expect from that but now I’m more than fucking agitated. Who the hell does she think she is.

Like I said before, of course I’m fucking angry. Im angry because I was shot but I’m still breathing while the girl I thought I could love forever is now gone and never coming back. I’m so fucking angry when I think of her being gone, when I think of who’s still here, and those who I can’t seem to stop defending deep down but wish for nothing else to thanto loathe. My thoughts intertwine and I can't tell the difference between who I want to love and who I long to hate , who I believed in and the hope i lost.

Yes, I’m irritated. I feel so god damn wronged. I know having my feelings under control is very important but doing that is so very fucking complex when you don’t know which is the beginning of a thought and if the end intertwines with another. Trying to sort them only succeeds in a perplex bundles of nerves I can never straighten out. Thats why im so damn mad. I hate that i can't get a some kinda grip on my feelings.

 I could feel the a dull throbbing at the base of my skull that’s gradually getting stronger. It usually happens only happens when I think or concentrate for a long period of time. No different for my emotions. Like fucking anger. I’m trying to stay calm but I still feel very god damn agitated.

That conversation rubbed all my spikes, and I I feel every nerve in my system prickle. Snapping isn’t on the agenda, so once I made it out of that damned house I completely lost any sense consciousness and direction. Im damn grateful I managed to stay home from church, but the house is not an option. So I made my way down a long path, pacing my way down the block.


	5. M.O.M.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every man has his goal, mine can wait till i get some piece and quiet.

It feels better out here but the sun is still too bright. My feet are too heavy and my long sleeve was too stuffy. Olivia would of enjoyed walks. No, she’s all but a memory now. I do like to trick myself sometimes, though. I swallow the pain of having to wonder, to imagine how she would experience life simple gifts. Now, though, all I have left are memories. 

I will remember how she was beautiful. A type of beauty that only glowed on her skin. I will remember what she was passionate for and what she longed for. The whole entirety of her existence winds up to a memory. Precious memories. Those of which I will always treasure. 

A bullet has the power to do that. 

Some call it luck. Others call it fate. I call it getting hit in all the wrong places. Olivia was a wrong place. And she was taken away from us. By that damned bullet. Shit, guns and violence is all this fucking city knows. That’s all the people see and talk about. Whether it’s with fear of being at the opposite side of the trigger or the cowards behind it. We live in this dirty ass neighborhood run by ganstas and homies ‘round every fucking corner. Profetas terrorized the people for years and Los damn fucking Santos ain’t different shit. Oscar fucking Diaz ain’t shit. 

I don’t like to think of him. I’ve come to terms with her death. I don’t deny her and I know she’s never coming back. It had gotten much easier. Usually, i close my eyes to think of her. I love remembering her, but the thoughts that linger behind are what make me feel unhinged. I can’t seem to understand them. Now a days I try to do the same but all I end up seeing is Him. He makes me feel more than just grief or loss. I feel something greater than loss. 

When I think of his damn face I feel that pain hallowing my chest, as i feel my lungs constrict. I feel it churning in the depths of the pit of my stomach. I feel it as it burrows itself deep within me and the hand of loss clutches my heart once again. My thoughts get muddled mixing my emotions between loss and hate. It only makes more impossible for me to figure them out.

I’ve lost something not even I knew about. Now that’s it’s gone I feel unanchored. I’ve never really fully grasped its importance to me, but this time I feel the pain in ten folds. Thinking of Oscar Diaz makes me realize that I trusted him, but shit wasn't like that. He wasn't like that. And i'm the fool who, deep down, really wanted for him to prove me right. That he was the person i believed in him to be. 

I hoped and trust that he would always be there for us. That he would keep us safe and do what it takes for his little brother. Now I just feel empty. Sad and very empty. 

I remember, I looked up to him. Idolized his strength and used his persona as motivation. I clearly took a more intuitive approach, obviously. I’m dealing with a double loss and I don’t know how to handle it. 

I slowed my frantic pace a bit, the dull ache at the back of my head, suddenly it feels stronger. Sharper almost. I lifted my left hand and placed it above the throbbing. The movement triggered something within me, the sudden lack of oxygen shocked my lungs. I barely managed to clutched the edge of a nearby tree as my knees locked and body stumbled slightly. I'm not quite surprised, but I’m always caught off guard. Now, feel the panic start to rise and sizzle. 

‘Fuck, why you damn it’

I try to concentrate on other things not Oscar related. The numbing in my toes feels kinda funny, but not as disturbing as the tingling needle like pricks coursing through my fingertips. The itching on my nose, I loosened my tightly shut eyes enough to see, it's a bit of my hair dangling in front of my eyes. I heard the light thud when I sat down. On a curb to be exact. And felt as a leaned back against the tree. 

The sun is too bright bright again. But now I can see, the trees? looking up, towards the bright green leafy trees. It’s cool. The breeze ruffles my hair as I catch a glimpse of the sun again. The tingling stopped and the sharp pain is subsiding. My eyes still sting but i focus on what i know is coming next. 

The surge of air on it way back in was always quite painful, unfortunate really. The rush of a cool air pushed through my lungs forcing them open, and I was able to breath again. 

I gasp several times before I’m decently composed, at least enough stand up from the curb. I looked up and away from the tree. Glancing up and down the street to try and get a sense of where I am. All my senses were on high alert now. Stupid attacks. They happen in the most inconvinient times. Good thing no one was around to see it. 

I havnt really told anybody about them. I dont think it is something worth mentioning, really. They've only surpassed my limits ounce or twice. Plus, this wont help me find piece, it'll only make shit worse. Possibly keep me on watch 24/7. No, thank you. 

Im a man on a mission, and aint nothing gonna stop me.


End file.
